


a likely story

by impsy



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Implied threesome (M/M/M), M/M, Rumors, Secrets, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:16:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impsy/pseuds/impsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles and Monroe aren't exactly subtle. [Pre-series]</p>
            </blockquote>





	a likely story

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I could quit this ship. (No, I don't.) Unbeta'd, forgive me for any horrible mistakes.
> 
> Set after "at the end of all things," so I'd recommend reading that first, but if not - this features established relationship Miles/Monroe, plus Jeremy who joins them occasionally.
> 
> Dedicated to [kawabiala](http://kawabiala.tumblr.com) and [into-the-vortex](http://into-the-vortex.tumblr.com/) for constantly flailing over Miloe with me on tumblr. Love you guys. :)

People talk.

They talk more when there's something interesting to speculate on, and if talking about that something had a chance of getting them killed... well, they just talk more quietly.

But that didn't mean Miles didn't hear about it.

He'd known, or at least assumed, that his relationship with Monroe would become... well, not public knowledge, exactly, but one of those secrets everyone knew but no one talked about.

If only.

He saw the looks, heard the furtive whispers, noticed when conversations stopped suddenly at his approach.

They'd kept things as private as possible, but nothing could really stay secret once their militia numbered in the hundreds. And while everyone in the army was sharing a tent, Miles knew that he and Monroe could have had their own if they wanted. Sharing one wasn't exactly subtle, and they trusted the other officers and the men who guarded their tent - trusted them with their lives, literally - but guarding the tent necessitated staying closer than Miles would prefer. He tried to keep the volume down, he knew that the guards almost certainly heard the muffled moans, the gasps, the whimpers and whispers that escaped the tent. And sometimes, when it became too much, he bit down on Bas's shoulder hard enough to bruise rather than scream.

But the few sounds they made were enough, apparently, and rumors spread like wildfire through the camp. He never heard them directly, but he had a man on the inside.

"You know what they're saying about you?" Jeremy asked him without looking up from his baked beans, which had long gone cold as they worked on troop assignments late into the evening.

"Should have figured you'd know all about it." Miles sighed. "Do I want to?"

He smirked. "Probably not. Might need to, though." At Miles' puzzled frown, he continued. "You really want Bas trying to deal with this while he's trying to run an army?"

"Fuck." He'd hoped to avoid the rumors altogether, but the more he thought about it, the more he agreed with Jeremy's point. "All right. Let me have it."

It was about what he expected. Criticism, mockery, disgust, jokes about "which one do you think wears the lacy underwear?"

But it was the speculation on who was really in charge of the army that worried Miles most, and convinced him that Bas absolutely had to be kept out of the loop on this. Jeremy had been with them long enough to understand Miles' hesitation about telling Bas, even though the rumor mill didn't spare him, either. His close friendship with them was quite the point of speculation.

Not that Jeremy cared, especially not when he proved those particular rumors true.

"I can't keep him in the dark forever," Miles said one morning without preamble, pulling his pants on. Monroe had left as the sun came up to meet with the other officers and continue planning their next offensive, but Miles and Jeremy had stayed behind.

Jeremy looked up at him, blindly buttoning his shirt. "If that's a joke about the power-"

"Wish it was, now. I just-"

"-don't like keeping secrets from him?" he finished, raising an eyebrow. Miles just pulled on his boots without replying, and Jeremy chuckled. "Yeah, I figured. Sucks to do when you're in-"

"Jeremy-"

He put up his hands in surrender, a wide smile on his face. "Sorry. Touchy, touchy." Miles rolled hie eyes and motioned for his other boot, which had wound up on the other side of their large tent, and Jeremy tossed it to him. "Just saying. I get it. Might not be the best idea, but you gotta do what you gotta do. As long as you think he can handle it."

"He can," he insisted, ignoring the twist in his stomach. He was sure he could deal with the rumors - this wasn't the first time people had made that particular assumption about them - but at what cost? Monroe had been so focused on the battles, their plans for governing the area they already controlled, and Miles hated to distract him, especially with something like his soldiers being more interested in his love life than the noble goals he had for them.

How could the men trust a leader with so many rumors flying around about him - about him and his general, especially? He sat in his folding chair in the large tent that served as a command center, watching Bas plan out their next offensive on outdated maps of the former USA with laser focus, and knew couldn't jeopardize the future of Monroe's republic for any longer than he already had. His own feelings were irrelevant with so much at stake.

If he really wanted to make Monroe a better leader, more focused, with fewer openings for criticism or speculation, then he didn't really have a choice about what to do next.

And if his heart sank with dread as he finally brought the subject up, he forced himself to remember that the ends always justified the means, no matter how much they made his heart ache

"Maybe we shouldn't do this anymore," he said, and Bas looked up from his maps with a frown.

"What, trying to take Chicago? I know it's a bit of a long shot, but-"

"No." He hesitated, but motioned back and forth between them, his movements stilted and awkward, and hoped Bas couldn't see how his hands were shaking. "This. Us."

Bas went utterly silent, his face expressionless.

Despite the years they'd been friends and all the time they'd been- whatever they were now, he had no idea what he was thinking, and Miles forced himself to continue, pushing his growing unease aside. "People talk, Bas, and you know it. They're going to figure it out, about us. If they haven't already."

"What are you talking about, Miles?"

He blinked, slightly taken aback at the coolness of his reply. He'd expected him to... He didn't know. Be upset, a little? Not this - this eerie, quiet calm. Maybe... maybe he'd pushed him too hard. He'd tried teaching him to cut out distractions so he could better focus on the realities of a situation, but this- this wasn't what he wanted, this emotionless man in front of him, looking like he was more than ready to cut this particular distraction out of his life without a second thought.

"If you're going to lead an army, you can't let them think of you like- like this. Like you're just as human as the rest of them. You've gotta be above that. God, Bas, the shit they're saying about you-"

"But not about you?" Bas raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That doesn't matter." He shook his head, looking away, wishing he didn't hate doing this quite so much. "You're the leader, Bas. Their commanding officer. We've talked so much about fixing everything, and I want you it to work, but when the men are more concerned with who you're fucking than where you're leading them... I'm not just gonna sit back and let this all fall apart."

"So you're-" Bas breathed a stunned little laugh, shaking his head. "Are you really saying you're gonna throw yourself under the bus to save my reputation, Miles?"

He sputtered. This was _not_ how he expected this conversation to go. "I'm just trying to-"

But then Bas's lips were on his, and his hands tangled in his hair, and his legs straddling Miles' in his chair in the middle of their makeshift war room, and he struggled to keep his thoughts together under the force of such a foolproof strategy.

"Bas, we can't, not here," he managed, trying to stop Bas's wandering hands, which had made their way under his shirt with shocking speed. "Someone could just walk in and-"

"Fuck 'em." Bas said "them," but from the way he was moving, Miles suspected he had someone else in mind. "Let them see. You think I give a shit about some fucking rumors?" He leaned back enough to meet Miles' eyes, his own dark with intent. "They can say whatever they want about us, but they'll follow my orders or suffer the fucking consequences."

The way he said that made Miles shiver, but he shook his head. "You can't just pretend they're not-"

"You really think I didn't know what they've been saying? You think I _care_?" He leaned in close, his voice a whisper, and Miles couldn't look away, couldn't have pulled back if he wanted to. "Why do you think I try so hard to make you scream?"

Miles groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "Bas-"

"I want everyone to know," he said, leaning forward to bite his earlobe, "that you're mine."

"I'm just- _fuck_ \- just trying to help." Miles knew the conversation was over, his heart racing and hands grabbing Bas's waist to pull him closer.

"If your 'helping' is leaving me, then you can shove it," Bas shot back, tugging up on the hem of Miles' shirt. "You keep telling me to be a leader and take charge." He rolled his hips to grind against him, making Miles groan. "This what you had in mind?"

" _Fuck,_ Bas, I-"

"I'm not letting you go," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. "And if anyone doesn't like it, they can go to hell. I'll send 'em there myself. I don't want to hear another word about it. That clear?"

Bas leaned back long enough to meet his eyes, and Miles recognized that look. Stubborn bastard, he thought with something like fondness. He couldn't help feeling somewhat gratified that he wasn't the only one completely, hopelessly gone over this- this whatever it was between them, this drunken fumbling in the dark that finally became more once the lights went out for good.

"Yes sir," Miles finally managed, and Bas grinned and put his smart mouth to excellent use and very nearly made him forget he'd ever been worried about such a thing as public opinion. 


End file.
